


Just For Old Time's Sake

by TheLittleWhiteRabbit



Series: Twisted-Tongues, Ex-tribal and all-round crappy courier [1]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Gen, I rlly love this courier, Mentions of Slavery, i'll probably edit this later tho, its like 4 am i can be forgiven, like slight 'maybe in a different life' fem courier/Antony but like not really??, she is a small short angry hispanic trans lady and she will kick your ass, this is rlly sloppy and ooc probs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 14:39:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5748238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLittleWhiteRabbit/pseuds/TheLittleWhiteRabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Hangdogs are no longer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just For Old Time's Sake

**Author's Note:**

> Introducing trans lady courier Twisted-Tongues, light of my life

Every day. Keep your head down. Ignore the pain. And the looks. And how their hands feel grabbing yo-

Head down. Ignore.

You can get something for the pain, their hands will stop roaming once they are spent, tired of terrorizing the boy with the dresses. But it _hurts and there is always more of them an-_

Head down. Ignore.

You stare at him when you can get away with it, a final act of rebellion. The one whose name was taken from him, just like yours. Replaced with a cruel mockery of a man long dead.

He hurts still, the pain of dogs being thrown on the fire. The reminder of the smell of burning flesh _and their cries and-_

Head down. Ignore.

Except, he doesn’t feel the same pain as you do, he doesn’t feel their wandering hands or their harsh words and harsher punishments. He won’t end up on a cross for speaking to his fellow officers in plain sight. He isn’t kept from the dogs on pain of death.

He still helps sometimes. Will take you to his tent, on claims of cleaning his armor or his machete. He looked so much better with that shitty switchblade in his hand.              

He just sits with you. Lets you rest, drink some water. Have some healing powder if you need it. He sees what they do and carries it with him, even when he is with his dogs. And they are his now, no longer yours. You don’t mind as much as long as you can rest, and he lets you. He keeps you there as long as he can, fearful of watching eyes. As long as they think you are his, it is alright. No one will harm another legionnaire's property and that's what you are now, the Legion's property. Maybe they will sell you off one day, or kill you for the sake of one less mouth to feed. Maybe one day you will be free. Free to tell him to go fuck himself and this Legion that has swallowed up your family, your tribe. Sometimes you think about your parents, your sisters. Then you remember your mother cries as she was nailed to that cross by that legion fuck and-

He looks at you then, as if his thoughts mirror yours. It is easier to sympathize with him when you remember his own mother nailed to a cross, her eyes had burned with fury until they hadn't burned anymore. You wish Caesar would choke on the fucking bullshit he preaches, or keel over from old age already but then it takes away the pleasure of doing it yourself as a free woman. That's all your tomorrows are made of, killing Caesar as a free woman. Not as this pale imitation of a man that the Legion has forced on you, along with so many other things. 

You wish he wouldn't taunt the girl.

She shouldn't be forced to work til her hands bleed, she would of been taught to be mighty in your tribe. Not left to become hesitant to even speak. It breaks a part of your heart you weren't even aware remained after the burning. You wish you could take her away from here, along with the others. You wish a lot these days.

Wish that the NCR would get off its lazy ass and _do something._ Even if that something means his death.

Antony's death.

He isn't part of your tribe, your tribe is dead. The Legion killed them, took him and all the others who would make good soldiers. Your hands were made for medicine and bar brawls, not battlefields. It showed, too small and too clueless when it came to using a machete. That and you bearing teeth at the fuck who had grabbed you. Would of got you up on a cross if it hadn't been for the medicine. First act he did as Antony. Some days you wished they had just left you to die in Colorado. 

You wish that one a lot.

 

**Author's Note:**

> All kudos and comments are very welcome! Come talk to me about fallout on tumblr at mandymilkovich.  
> (To avoid any confusion, the girl mentioned is Melody.)


End file.
